


The Clock

by australis290



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Fred Weasley - Freeform, Post canon, Reminiscing, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but from old age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/australis290/pseuds/australis290
Summary: The normal clock had come under much scrutiny over the years, however. Many had stood in front of it warily, knocking here, tapping there. Jumping back as far as they could once each blow landed, then sheepishly smiling as nothing happened before starting the process over. All of this was done in an effort to ascertain the nature of the timepiece, which was widely thought to be the most mysterious piece in the building in which it resided.





	The Clock

The clock on the mantle ticked slowly, the small thud of each second landing softly but forcefully. It was a normal clock, it only measured time, and that only in hours, minutes, and seconds. The ivory insert was set in a dark cherry wood; it was the kind of mantle piece that was just solidly there. It wanted nothing more than to tell you whether you were early or late.

The normal clock had come under much scrutiny over the years, however. Many had stood in front of it warily, knocking here, tapping there. Jumping back as far as they could once each blow landed, then sheepishly smiling as nothing happened before starting the process over. All of this was done in an effort to ascertain the nature of the timepiece, which was widely thought to be the most mysterious piece in the building in which it resided. 

By now it's probably got you ensared too. What is the dastardly thing hiding?

The truth is, nothing. It is nothing but a clock that tells nothing but time, in nothing but hours, minutes, and seconds. Its normality is what sets it apart, for this clock lives in a building on the strange Diagon Ally; in a strange shop of explosive entertainment, and is owned by the extraordinally strange George Weasley.

The man in quesiton sat in a chair in front of the fire place, listening to the steady tick of the clock. His family would be here soon.

Not that he was upset about that. He sincerely loved his kids and grandkids. _I just don't want to see them._

It had gotten so hard lately.

_Almost as hard as when it first happened._

Sixty years hadn't dulled the memory. The happiness of Percy actually being back with the family, and admitting he was a prat no less.

Nothing felt better to a Weasley than being with family, and being reunited felt like the best christmas ever. And then- 

_CRACK_

The fire popped, and George gasped, fully immersed in that memory for a moment. The shock as Fred's smiling face froze. George's heart stopping at the same moment his twin's did, but then starting again. The silent scream as he tried to figure out exactly what happened. His lungs freezing and refusing to work while his skin grew clammy from shock. _It couldn't be happening. Not this, never this._ They were supposed to go together, in some stupid experiment gone wrong, or their bodies finally giving into age while their minds tried to pull one last prank. 

Never this. Never one going on without the other. 

George's hands finally protested the death grip he had on the arms of the chair and pulled him from his memories. 

"Never thought my old joints would help me." He spoke aloud, adding to the hum of the shop. It was after hours, so there was no one around, but Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes could never be quiet. There was always a whirring and clicking, as well as the occaisional bang when something decided there just wasn't enough noise.

The shop was the only place George could pretend to be happy anymore. He had moved back into it after he had sold the house Angelina and he had lived in. Sold it three days after her funeral. _The one I had to be forced to go to._

Roxanne had apparated with him in hand to get him there. He never would have gone on his own. 

_She never should have left me. I've barely been holding on these past years. Everyone leaves though. Angelina just wanted to see Fred first._

The clock seemed to tick with admonishment.

"I know it's not true, if I try to rationally think about it. Sixty years. Sixty years of being alone. It doesn't lend much to rational thought."

His fortieth birthday had been horrendous. Each second that past meant he had spent more time on this earth without Fred than he had with him. His heart had pumped twice as much as it should have that day, two beats for every moment. One because it was necessary to keep his body running, the other to cause pain with each tick of the clock.

He didn't last long that day, by half eleven he had been on the roof of the shop with a couple cases of firewhisky and cases of fireworks he had set off to wreck havoc along Diagon Ally.

He had gotten hell for that day: Angelina saying he was a bad example for his kids, Ron cursing because a dragon and a firewheel had set his pants on fire.

The family never seemed to get it. Not to say they didnt love and miss him too, they just never really understood the depths of the hole that Fred had left.

"And mirrors. No one ever remembered mirrors. Bastard pieces of glass" Each one made his chest clench and eyes tear. Often he would catch a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and smile, so relieved it had all been a lie and his twin was right there. A weight would lift and could finally take a a true full breath. So he would turn to face it head on, only to watch the smile crumple away and feel the burden slam back, heavier than before.

"It's hard to remember I had a good life sometimes. Hell. I had a pretty damn great life. Two beautiful kids, a slew of grandkids, a thriving business and two family members who are delighted to carry it on. More than anyone could ever wish for."

A couple explosions celebrated his brave words, and George glanced around at the shop fondly before turning to look at the clock. "Where did you come from? You have been keeping time in this shop for such a long time. Did you come from one of the happy memories?"

George fell silent for a minute, absorbing the sounds of the hands moving around the face. "Are you counting down now? Each of your ticks and tocks sounds more final.

"It wouldn't be a bad thing if you were. I've outlived too many people. I hate too many people now. Nothing but a bitter old man who resents the living and the dead." He sat breathing slowly, his heartbeat synchronizing with his faithful clock, then, for the first time in a long time, he smiled with true joy. 

_This is it, Fred ol boy, no more funerals for me._ Funerals were rage, flashing white hot, colouring his sight and making him want to howl. He never did though. He would pretend to mourn, each time wishing he was next.

There was something a little dark about wishing for your own death, George could acknowledge that, but he had walked around as half a pair for far too long.

The clock ticked, keeping strict time as it always had, telling the man in front of the fire what time it was in hours, minutes, and seconds. If anyone else had been present in that eternally busy shop they would have heard something very strange. All the whizzing and humming and whirling sounds slowly came to a stop. The magic that infused everything in the building pausing in respect of what was happening.

If anyone else had been in that strange shop on the very strange Diagon Alley they would have heard a strange sound; silence. For the first time since a pair of stubborn and innovative boys had opened a shop to make people smile during hard times, the building lapsed into quiet. 

Except, there was a very normal clock that wasn't doing what strange things did. This very normal clock had a job to do. Its second hand continued its journey around its face, providing a normal sound for the strange George Weasley as his eyes closed and he folded his hand over his chest. His heartbeat keeping time with tick-tocking as the normal clock did its job. 

Then finally, if anyone else had been present to notice they would have heard something very strange from the very normal clock; nothing. There had been a tick, but no tock to follow after with no accompanying heartbeat, and the very strange shop was silent. 

Then a very normal tick as the second hand on the very normal clock kept moving. 

There was another sound of a key in the door as the strange George Weasley's loving family finally arrived, and the shop sprung back into action. Humming and whirring and explosions resumed as very strange things did the jobs a very strange man had built them to do. 

The very normal clock that told the time in very normal hours, minutes, and seconds kept ticking along, telling those who saw it whether they were early or late. It was still widely regarded as the most mysterious thing in a very strange building, and people kept tapping and jumping as it did its job. The very normal clock would never react to this though, it had no loud sounds or reactions to give. Its only secret a single tock that never happened.

That this very normal clock kept a secret though, made it very strange indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> My first and maybe only fic that I am only dragging up the courage to post because most of my friends don't read fanfics...


End file.
